A Little Christmas Spirit
by Stranger
Summary: It was the Thursday before Christmas and Draco Malfoy was waiting for some sort of sign. SLASH WARNING
1. Maple Syrup

Title: A Little Christmas Spirit   
Summary: It was the Thursday before Christmas and Draco Malfoy was waiting for some sort of sign.   
Warning: This is SLASH. As in, guys liking guys. Or girls liking girls. If you're not into that kind of thing, don't read it. Don't say I didn't warn you.   
*   
A Little Christmas Spirit   
*   
It was Thursday when Draco began to seriously consider his state of mental health.   
The sky was that lovely gray bleakness that arrives only before a winter rain,the dining hall was filling with the cloying smell of maple syrup and Draco was seated in the Slytherin table, looking cool and composed as usual.   
However, the young man's mind was racing worriedly in a thousand directions. And Draco could find no explanation or excuse for his feelings.   
As of late, Draco's mental mansion had been refurbished without his consent. And in every imaginery room, down every corridor, on every stairway, was one Ronald Weasley.   
It was insane, Draco knew, and absolutely unforgivable. That he was even thinking of the boy vexed him; however, the attraction made Draco question his sanity.   
Potter he might have been able to understand, and resist- it would be a simple case of reverse psychology and could be remedied by inattention.   
However, these feelings for Weasley baffled Draco. Weasley was nothing- totally unnoticable had it not been for his blind devotion to Potter. Standing alon, Weasley was merely a rather gangly young wizard with about five Knuts to his plebian name.   
Even in the company of the Boy Who Lived, Weasley wasn't much- a shadow, a sidekick, a faithful dog.   
Despite all this, Draco Malfoy had a horrible suspicion he was falling for this Ronald Weasley, this nothing, this shadow of his adversary.   
It was the Thursday before Christmas and Draco Malfoy was waiting for some sort of sign.   
A few seats down the Slytherin table, the other Slytherins staying for the holidays were discussing a pratical and degrading way to sabatoge the Gryffindors' common room.   
"We could fly up to their tower and hurl dungbombs through the windows."   
"In this kind of weather? We'd be frozen before we got to the broomshed!"   
"Well, then we could..."   
But Draco, irritated by his housemates' drivel, ignored the conversation and looked across the hall to the Gryffindor table, where sat Harry Potter and his unattachable growth, Weasley.   
They looked disgustingly cheery, with noses red from the cold, and snow melting in their hair. Evidently the Boy Who Wouldn't Die and his constant companion had been in a snowball fight before breakfast.   
As if feeling the almost silver eyes on him, Ron turned around and searched the hall, finally ending at Draco, who glared back. The red-headed boy glared back and returned to his pancakes.   
Harry was now talking to Ron, a thick line of milk arching over his mouth. Draco slumped down in his seat, bored, and watched the two Gryffindors eat. 


	2. Blackberry Pips

*   
A Little Christmas Spirit Part 2   
*   
"He's looking at us again!"   
"Shut up, you bloody git!"   
"But he's--"   
"That's right, Ron," Harry hissed. "Why don't you let the whole hall know we're watching Draco Malfoy watch us?"   
Ron shut up. He was definetely not comfortable with the idea of Hogwart's leading slime (slime with a mansion three times as large as his house, but slime nevertheless) ogle at him and his breakfast.   
And anyhow, Ron bitterly thought, it wasn't as if Ron was important enough to merit attenion. The ferret of Slytherin was probably gawping at Harry Potter.   
Famous Harry Potter. It wasn't like Ron wanted to be Harry or anything. Harry had too much trouble- like living with Muggles for the summers and not having a proper family, but Ron wouldn't have minded half the attention Harry got. Harry was known all over Europe and Ron was called "the tall kid with red hair" by other students.   
Very carefully, Ron peeked over his shoulder. Yes, Draco was still watching them, but with more leisure; his heavy lids sliding from the Gryffindor table to the piece of bread he was spreading with blackberry jam. Dreamily, Ron wondered what it would be like to drown Malfoy in a vat of blackberry jam. Just imagining the impeccable platinum hair submerging and popping back up, covered in the jam and pips gave Ron little shivers of excitement all over...  
"What do you think, Ron?"   
Harry's voice cutting the mists in his mind, Ron looked up curiously. "Wha?"   
"I said," Harry replied, voice tinged with impatience, "What all this means. You know, Draco taking a sudden interest in overlording our breakfast?"   
"Maybe he's documenting the feeding rituals of gorillas." Hermione interjected, looking severely at the mess the two boys had made. Oatmeal and syrup were spilled on the table, Harry had a rather distressing milk mustache and Ron's nose was lightly sprinkled with powdered sugar.   
Harry and Ron grinned and continued on with their feeding.   
***   
Draco watched Harry Potter whispering to Ron, then Ron turning back again to stare at him and turn back to the Boy Who Wouldn't Stop Living. Hermione spoke to them and all three laughed. And Draco realized he was not the only one watching the Fantastic Trio in action, for Neville, seated next to them, was looking upon them with something akin to envy.   
A thought occurred to Draco and he sat for a while sorting it out, all the while chewing on his lip.   
Turning to his fellow Slytherins, he said, "I know how to get into the Gryffindor common room." 


	3. Lemon Meringue

*  
  
A Little Christmas Spirit Part 2  
  
*  
  
Draco smiled impishly to himself. If anyone had seen the wicked delight on his face, they would surely realize he was up to no good. Then Draco remembered he was never tempted to do good for others. Never. He wasn't Santa Claus or something.  
  
"Draco," Crabbe asked dully, "How are you going to get into the Gryffindor common room?"  
  
"It's all very simple, but I'm not telling anyone. Yet." Draco looked at his ox like friend and decided that maybe sharing his cunning plan would only be a waste of time. After all, there is only a certain quantity of times you can talk to a six foot living wall without getting frustrated.  
  
"Oh. Okay." And Crabbe went back to attacking his oatmeal, even though he'd already had five bowls.  
  
Draco looked at the other boy in disgust, but movement at the Gryffindor table soon diverted his attention.  
  
The Nauseatingly Bonded Trio were leaving, destination unknown, although it probably was Hagrid's hovel. (Even smaller than the Weasel's house and that was saying something.) Draco watched on as Ron, seemingly oblivious to everything but Potter and the mudblood, gestured grandiosely. He could barely make out the words.  
  
".And then the old bat gave us homework over vacation! I hope she chokes on her crystal ball."  
  
"Ron!" Mudblood looked scandalized, while Potter howled with laughter.  
  
As the three Gryffindors disappeared, Draco noted the way the light from the charmed roof reflected off Ron's hair.  
  
"Oh shit." Draco hissed. What was wrong with him? He was acting like some lovesick schoolgirl-the youngest Weasel or her kind. Pretty soon he'd be having one of the dreams where Draco and Ron pranced along some nature trail and little blue birds twittered. Disgusting.  
  
When he came of out his reflections, Neville was gone. Dammit. Draco slid out of his seat and hurried out of the dining hall.  
  
***  
  
"I tell you, Hagrid," Hermione persisted, "Draco Malfoy's eyes were practically glued to them!"  
  
Hagrid snorted, and offered the trio a plate of rock solid lemon meringues.  
  
"No, really." Harry piped up. "It was like he was x-raying us. Muggle practice." He added, noticing Ron and Hagrid's confusion. "It makes the person able to see through the other person's.."  
  
"Urgh." Ron said, almost breaking a tooth on Hagrid's cooking and thinking of Draco Malfoy scanning over a very naked Harry, Hermione and himself.  
  
"Don't be crude, Ron. It makes the user able to see the other person's SKELETON. That is, bones."  
  
But it was too late for Ron. Already, his ears were turning the bright red color of a turnip.  
  
***  
  
Draco trailed Neville at a safe distance, so he could position himself behind a coat of armor if Longbottom turned around. Neville was followed through an endless succession of hidden doors and deserted hallways (except for the paintings, which tittered to see the moonfaced boy shadowed by Draco Malfoy). Just as Draco began to wonder if Neville had actually discovered him and was conducting a wild goose chase, Neville stopped at a portrait of a rather rotund woman wearing a pink silk dress and an idiotically happy smile. The painting reminded him slightly of Pansy Parkinson, except that Pansy was a little more simpering than doltish.  
  
"Password?" The painted lady inquired.  
  
From his hiding spot behind a column, Draco saw Longbottom's face flush. He never was good at remembering things.  
  
"Um. Puh. Wait for it. Perpetuus Fidelis."  
  
Draco watched as the painting swung open, and Longbottom entered, tripping on the doorjamb. He mentally translated the password and chuckled. "Always faithful."  
  
  
  
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